


His.

by beebuzz, writingboom



Series: Whose are you? [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Break Up, Everyone hurts, Heavy Angst, Hurt, I don't even know how to tag this it's so sad, I'm just sorry, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love Triangles, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform, The Big Ouch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26165854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebuzz/pseuds/beebuzz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingboom/pseuds/writingboom
Summary: Delusional.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Series: Whose are you? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900099
Comments: 21
Kudos: 146





	His.

He doesn’t want to think about it. 

Yeah, sure. Shoyo is late coming home.  _ Really _ , late. 

But that doesn’t mean the worst case scenario. Atsumu doesn’t want to think of it like that. Shoyo loves him. He assured him plenty. Ever since the match, he assured Atsumu that it’s not like that with Kageyama anymore. Atsumu believes him. 

He  _ does  _ believe him, right? 

Nine p.m. comes and goes. Ten p.m. comes and goes.

Atsumu keeps checking his phone, checking the text he sent asking Shoyo when he’s coming home. It still hasn’t even been opened. 

He turns off the tv. His hands are shaking. He feels panicked and empty- like there’s this hole deep in the middle of his gut- and he knows it won’t be fixed until Shoyo can come home and kiss him back to reality. 

It’s bullshit, really. Atsumu has  _ never  _ been like this. He never cared if a girl was out late. Hell, he never even cared if they fucked someone else. He barely thought of them if they weren’t around. But he thinks about Shoyo every second of every day. Of that brilliant smile, that loud laugh and bright,  _ bright _ hair. 

It’s hard not to. It’s hard not to think of the person you’re in love with, especially with how deeply in love Atsumu is. He’s always been in love with Shoyo. 

He crawls into bed but doesn’t turn off the lights. He forces himself to stay sitting up and to turn on his iPad and watch a game. He doesn’t want to sleep until Shoyo comes home. Atsumu hopes he’s okay. 

He…. hopes he’s not with Kageyama. He’s probably not… at the least he’s not with him  _ alone _ . Because Shoyo told him honestly, over and over, there’s nothing there anymore. It’s not like that. 

He’ll come home. He will. Atsumu  _ knows  _ Shoyo loves him. 

\------

Shoyo does come home. 

At three a.m. 

Atsumu had fallen asleep sitting up with the light on. The door to their apartment beeps open, he hears those familiar tiny footsteps, and he’s filled with anxiety again. Three a.m.? Why? Where has he been? The footsteps stop right outside the bedroom door, and Atsumu feels his heart start to race. Fuck, he’s exhausted. If he weren’t so tired, he’d probably get up and greet his boyfriend just to calm down his nerves. 

Shoyo doesn’t open the door. Atsumu waits and waits. He wants to fall back asleep.

What’s going on? Why isn't he coming in?

He’s about to call out when the door slowly creaks open. Just a little. 

Atsumu’s heart sinks further into his stomach. His throat feels tight. All he can see in the little crack is Shoyo’s hair, a few fingers, the left half of his face, his eyes covered in the shadow of his bangs. He looks sad. And tired. And worn out. 

“Hey-”

“I,” Shoyo’s voice is small and raw. Atsumu shuts up. “I didn’t think you’d wait up.”

“I thought you just went to get drinks with some players,” Atsumu says quietly. His eyes are heavy. “I was worried something happened to ya.”

He leaves it open ended. Worried that Shoyo got hurt, worried that he ran away, worried that he was cheating on Atsumu. All of it is correct, so he doesn’t specify. 

Shoyo doesn’t say anything. His little fingers grip the door a bit harder, and Atsumu doesn’t like it; but he doesn’t say anything to call it out. 

It’s fine. Shoyo’s probably just tired too, right? Maybe someone was mean to him or.. It’ll be fine. He’s just overthinking again, damn it. 

“I.. I’m gonna sleep on the couch.”

Atsumu’s heart knots back up his throat. Anxiety starts shooting down his limbs like it used to when he was a kid and people told him he was annoying and should act more like his brother. He doesn’t usually let it get that bad anymore, but he’s too tired to be able to prevent it. 

Why? Why doesn’t Shoyo want to sleep with him? Fuck… no, no he actually doesn’t want to know. Maybe he just needs some alone time. Maybe he’s drunk. Yeah. It’s fine. They aren’t breaking up, stupid. 

Atsumu forces himself to squeak, “okay.” 

Shoyo bows his head, nods once, and leaves. He closes the door just as slowly as he had opened it. 

Atsumu feels a threat of tears building up in his eyes, but he wills them away. Nope. He isn’t crying, cause nothing is wrong. It’s just late. They’ll see each other in the morning. There’s no practice, and Shoyo will explain. It’ll be fine.

They’re fine. 

\--------

When he wakes up, it's to a small hand on his bicep and the smell of vanilla coffee. 

His eyes flutter open. Atsumu’s favorite mug is right in front of him. Shoyo is holding it out, standing above him with dark circles under his eyes and a small smile. He doesn’t know why, but he looks really nervous. 

“Morning,” Shoyo says softly.

Asumu blinks slowly, eyes still heavy. “Mornin’”

“Come on,” Shoyo shakes him again, just slightly. His face is fixed in the same timid smile. “C-can we talk? Please?” 

Atsumu feels very, very uneasy. 

———

They’re sitting across from each other at their small, square breakfast table. Atsumu loves this table and all the memories he has with it. 

Right now though, it’s not the most pleasant. The air is heavy and both of Shoyo’s hands are cupping his own cup of coffee. It’s a small mug, the one he uses the least. Atsumu has noticed he only uses that mug when he feels like he doesn’t deserve a good one. 

Shoyo also isn’t really looking at him as he speaks. Atsumu sits as close to normal as he can muster, slouching and legs out. His heart is racing. He watches with critical eyes as Shoyo tells him about the night before. 

“And I’m sorry about the couch thing,” he explains shakily. “We went out for drinks and Tsuki picked a fight with me. I was upset and knew I would just toss and turn all night.”

Atsumu knows when Shoyo lies. He does. Shoyo is a really bad liar. 

Brown eyes dart up to meet him but quickly flicker back down to the coffee mug. He starts fidgeting, and squirming, and downs the rest of his coffee so he can switch tactics. He must be able to tell that Atsumu is seeing through him. 

“I’m sorry.” Hinata offers, but there’s this chill in Atsumu’s bones. “Let’s have a good day, okay?” His heart feels like it’s beating somehow too slowly in his chest, and his gut is twisting with the  _ worst  _ fucking butterflies he’s ever had. “Wanna go practice with me?” He wants the truth. The actual truth. Even if it’s... “We can try out some quicks and-”

He forces himself to interrupt. 

“What’s the  _ actual  _ reason, Sho.” 

Shoyo tenses up. 

“I know ya too well. I can tell when yer lyin’.”

Shoyo suddenly takes in a sharp breath and stands up. Atsumu hears a strained, sort of maniacal laugh and then watches his boyfriend dart into the kitchen. “I’m gonna need more coffee for this..”

It’s a mumble, but Atsumu hears it. He also hears his short breathing, sees his shaking hands.

Shoyo is fast, walking into the kitchen, but not so fast that Atsumu misses the teeth marks on the back of his neck. 

His heart stops beating.  _ He  _ didn’t do that. He… they haven’t…

Those are someone else’s teeth marks. Someone else bit his boyfriend. 

Someone else  _ fucked  _ his boyfriend. 

Through the blinding, dizzying panic swirling in his mind, he hears Shoyo pouring coffee a few feet away. Fuck. FUCK. This is happening. He has that shitty, horrid feeling in his gut. They’re going to break up. 

And bitterness joins the swirl of panic. Shoyo cheated on him. What's more, he let them leave a  _ mark  _ on him. Jesus. The asshole side of Atsumu rears up and he clenches his fist tight around the cold coffee mug. Is his ass still  _ loose _ ? Did he sleep on the couch because he knew he smelt like lube and sweat and jizz?

Shoyo sighs, and sits back down across from him. 

Atsumu pushes the thoughts away. Lets see if he’s honest. 

Maybe if he’s honest, maybe… maybe they don't need to break up. Atsumu’s heart feels heavy. He doesn’t want to break up. Shoyo is the best thing that's ever happened to him. Ever. Better than volleyball, better than sponsors, better than..than everything. 

He looks at Shoyo’s tired face. His lips are pinched together and he looks like he’s in pain. 

“The.. the real reason I was late is.. is because I think I need to break up with you. And I didn’t want to come home because of that.”

Atsumu feels an invisible knife pierce through his chest, right between his ribs. He feels sick, and he looks down at the table. Just because he was expecting it, doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“Why?” 

His voice is weak and pathetic. He knows  _ why _ . But fuck. He’s so.. desperate. He’s never loved anyone like this. Surely it wasn’t one sided? Surely all the moments they had together weren’t fake, right?  _ Right?  _

“Look, Tsumu, I… I’m sorry. I don’t want to, but I-“

_ “Why?”  _

He feels strange. Manic.  _ Crazy _ . Why is this happening so quickly? Why wasn’t he  _ warned?  _ How could he have seen it coming? Were there signs he didn’t notice? Was he just so blinded by love? 

“Last night someone-” Shoyo’s voice cracks and he swallows thickly before continuing. “Someone asked me a question and it made my head start spinning. And I realized something I hadn’t wanted to realize.” 

No.  _ No. _ Atsumu’s chest feels tight. His hands are weak. He’s trapped in his own body. Trapped and forced to watch Shoyo kill him.

“What was it?” Atsumu whispers. 

“I don’t.. I don’t know if I love you anymore.” 

Something’s pulled thin and, at that, his heart snaps. Atsumu looks up. Panic and sharp anger flood to his tongue as he gawks at Shoyo’s shitty, fake-devastated face. 

“Don’t… don't know if you LOVE ME?” He snaps. His voice is shaky- dangerous to even his own ears- and Shoyo furrows his brow, closes his eyes.

He must know how fucking absurd this is.

“What the  _ fuck  _ Shoyo. That’s not  _ fair _ , you… you don’t think you  _ love me anymore?  _ Fuck, we.. we  _ live  _ together… you told me you loved me over and over again what… three fucking nights ago? Now you’re saying you don’t  _ love me?”  _

“Atsumu..”

“NO.” His heart is beating so fast. His throat hurts. It burns like he’s about to start crying and his cheeks feel really hot. His brain is starting to hurt too. Great. “Explain this to me. Have you just been messing with me? I really don’t get it, Shoyo- ‘cause you’re a shitty liar, but if you’ve been lying about loving me this whole time then maybe you aren’t bad at it after a-”

“I haven't been lying about that!” Shoyo’s voice is high, and he makes eye contact, big brown eyes wide and face drawn up in desperation.

Atsumu scrunches his nose and scoffs, leaning back in his chair to look off to the side. He glares at the couch. Takes a sip of coffee. Bullshit.. 

“I haven’t. I thought I..I  _ thought _ I did. I swear. And I-” Shoyo’s voice breaks like it does when he cries. “I know I  _ used  _ to. I loved you a lot.” 

Atsumu’s throat burns worse. Fuck, he’s gonna start crying. He doesn’t want to give Shoyo the privilege of making him cry. He doesn’t want to be seen as any more pathetic than he already has. 

“When?”

Shoyo puts his head in his hands. Atsumu looks at him long enough to see how his hands are trembling before looking back to the couch. 

“Our 6 month…” A mental image of Shoyo’s big smile dusted a dark pink, sitting across a fancy restaurant table from him as Atsumu held out a rose in a shaky hand. 

“W-when we moved into this place.” Another memory, laughing as Shoyo jumped on him and they fell onto a wood floor void of furniture and Atsumu kissed him there for hours. “I love those memories, Tsumu, I… I really-”

“Cut the shit,” Atsumu forces himself to say. He regrets asking. He doesn’t want to hear it. It makes his heart ache more to think about those things while it's all falling apart in reality. 

“Sorry.”

Hearing apologies makes him angrier. Maybe it would be better- easier- if Shoyo was cold about this. If he got up, looked down with dark brown eyes full of pity, and left. His apologies are feeding the disgusting, sad part of Atsumu that wants to believe Shoyo still cares. The part that loves Shoyo more than anything and wants to be with him no matter what. It gives Atsumu false hope. And he wants to tell Shoyo to stop apologizing because of that, but he can’t bring himself to because Shoyo sounds so  _ genuine _ . So... apologetic, and guilty. 

He forces himself to swallow, hoping it’ll clear the painful knot in his throat. It doesn’t. He wants to wrap this up so he can go run away and find somewhere to break down. 

“Okay. So we’re breaking up.” 

“Yeah,” Shoyo whispers. “I’m really sorry, Atsumu. F-for everything.” 

“Me too,” he mutters. Cause he is. He’s sorry for falling this hard for someone he should’ve known he never had a chance with in the first place.

Shoyo’s fingers start fiddling with each other on the table. They sit there for a second. Atsumu finds questions start bubbling up in his mind, things he doesn’t really want answers to but knows he needs. 

He has this feeling that it’s Kageyama. The reason for this breakup. The reason Shoyo realized he didn’t love him. The reason for the bite mark on the back of his neck. He doesn’t want to believe it, because Shoyo told him so, so many times that he doesn’t care for Kageyama anymore. Told him honestly. Told him often. Atsumu always believed him. 

Atsumu doesn’t want to know if the constant nagging about that in the back of his head has been right this whole time. 

“What about the apartment- And the furniture-”

“I h-have money saved, so I should be okay to leave. I don’t plan on kicking you out. And Kenma-”

“No,” Atsumu stares harder at the couch. On second thought, he doesn’t want to stay in a place littered with memories. “I want to leave, actually. I’ll stay with Osamu for a while.”

“Wh-whatever you choose,” Shoyo says, softly. He sounds scared. Maybe Atsumu’s anger and hurt is radiating out. “It’s completely up to you, okay?”

It's  _ not _ up to him, though. He hasn’t had any power over what’s happened to him since Shoyo walked into the volleyball gym to try out for a position after coming home to Japan. 

“Yeah. Sure.” Atsumu’s chest hurts. Like his ribs are slowly caving in on him. 

If it was up to him, Shoyo would still love him. 

“D-do you have any more questions? I’ll answer them.” 

“Are you gonna stay on the team,” Atsumu spits. He hopes the answer is no. 

“M-maybe for a little. But I’m gonna try out for the national team someday.” 

_ Of course you are, _ Atsumu thinks bitterly. He has the same dreams as Atsumu. It’s not anything new, but all of a sudden, it hurts to think about. Being around Shoyo after he’s split Atsumu in two isn’t something he wants, but volleyball is the only thing he loves that comes close to him. He can’t give that up too, even if being in the same league for the foreseeable future means hours of practice time and… 

_ Damn it.  _ It used to be a good thing. It used to feel like conquering the world. Now it feels like some sort of fucked up, horrible torture. 

Shoyo is quiet. He’s waiting for more questions. 

“Would you have married me, eventually, if that person hadn’t asked that question?”

Atsumu doesn’t really want to know the answer to this one either. No matter what, it feels like he’ll be beyond devastated. But he wants- _ wanted  _ to marry Shoyo. He needs to know if that was one sided too.

“I… I dont think so. I never could quite see that sort of future, and..”

Atsumu feels another sharp stab in his ribs, and he bites his lip and his hand breaks away from the mug to curl into a tight fist. Shit. He’s been completely delusional, then. This whole time, he’s just been  _ delusional _ . 

“I know you wanted that,” Shoyo almost whispers. His voice is raw. “I loved you so much that I thought it would be fine, in the end.” 

In his head, Atsumu scoffs. If Shoyo really loved Atsumu, loved him like  _ he  _ loved  _ Shoyo _ , this wouldn’t be happening at all. Maybe that’s wrong of him to think, or unfair. But it feels like the truth, if he breaks it all down. 

Shit. He was so in love and happy yesterday too. This is insane.  _ Yesterday. _

“Anything else?” Shoyo whispers. He must hate this as much as Atsumu does. 

“Kageyama.”

Shoyo visibly tenses up in his peripheral vision.

Oh god. Fuck, no, no he needs to know. He needs to know  _ honestly _ . He forces himself to look over. To look Shoyo dead on. 

That way, if he tries to lie, Atsumu will know. 

“Do you still love him?”

Shoyo’s eyes start to fill with tears. His bottom lip trembles and his face gets more red, but he holds eye contact until a sob cracks from his throat and the tears fall. His arm comes up and Shoyo buries his face in it. 

Atsumu can’t breathe. 

He knows the answer already. But it still feels like everything inside him melts to nothing as Shoyo chokes out, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” 

Atsumu was delusional about a lot, but at least he wasn’t delusional about that. 

  
  



End file.
